


More to Love

by teh_gelfling



Series: Bits and Bobs [8]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bestiality, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Sounding, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformer Sparklings, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7303654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teh_gelfling/pseuds/teh_gelfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you feel like it, leave a comment or critique. I love knowing what my readers like and don't like about my stories.</p>
    </blockquote>





	More to Love

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel like it, leave a comment or critique. I love knowing what my readers like and don't like about my stories.

\oOOo/

“Ratch! Ratch! You have ‘parkkkling?” Dash stretched way up on his very tippy-tip-toes and tried to pull himself up on the berth his caretaker lay on. Ratchet leaned slightly forward and actually laughed aloud at the buglet; only his antennae could be seen over the end of the berth.

“Yeah, bitlet. He’s over here.” He patted the basket-like berth the new sparkling rested in.

Sunstreaker moved around the medberth to see his sparkling, and in the process picked up Dash and deposited him on the berth with Ratchet where Shadow and Gadget already sat drinking their energon.

“Brace yourself, Sunny. He looks just like your brother. Although the red is a bit more orangey.”

“He’s got your optics, though. Got any ideas for his name?”

Ratchet shook his helm. “Not yet. He was just born, though. Hasn’t had time to show any real personality yet.”

There was a clatter of tools as they were dumped into a sink to be cleaned before sterilisation. Then, a couple of minutes later, there was a perfect echo of it from the sparkling.

Ratchet and Sunstreaker looked at each other. Sunstreaker revved his engine, and sure enough, after a minute or two of contemplation, the sparkling perfectly reproduced the sound.

“Echo,” they both said.

“Echo,” the newly named Echo repeated, with the resonances of both his parents’ voices perfectly replicated.

“Oh, this is going to be a nightmare,” Sunstreaker said dramatically, tossing his head back and looking at the ceiling.

The sparkling laughed and cooed.

“I’m assuming Bob’s taken care of?” Ratchet asked.

“Sure. Left Drift in there to watch him,” he said with a hint of maliciousness to his smile. “Just to make sure he doesn’t go wandering, you know.”

“But his heat cycle’s over, _right_?” Ratchet narrowed his optics at his mate.

“Will be shortly, I’d imagine.”

Ratchet's voice was quiet but hard as he said, "You let Drift into our quarters and _left him there_ with an Insecticon in heat."

"Look, you're out here and in no condition to take care of him. I'm worn out and still recovering from that overheating episode I had. Opportunity presents itself, who am I to say no?"

"You...!” He reined himself in, but only just barely and only because of the sparklings present. “We are having a discussion about this when we're alone. That was _not_ okay, Sunny. Go get him out of that mess. Lock Bob in the berthroom if you have to."

Sunstreaker huffed. "Fine." He handed Gage off to the medic and turned back to their quarters.

\oOOo/

Bob's valve was like nothing he'd ever encountered before, and he'd experienced countless interface mods in his time. There were little tendrils inside that stroked his spike in random patterns. On occasion, some would wind around his spike and hold him in place while others continued to caress him. Then there were the long, thin ones that seemed to be interested in nothing more than wriggling themselves down his transfluid channel and holding him open.

That was a feeling he’d forgotten he’d liked so much.

The ends of those long tendrils battered themselves against the gate to his transfluid chamber. He’d already overloaded twice just getting used to the valve surrounding him. He could feel a third thin tendril poking around the crown of his spike until it found the spread opening and it squirmed inside slowly.

A fourth followed, and the squirmy feeling was just too much. He held Bob to him as he shoved himself in as far as he could and overloaded. The four tendrils shot forward when they registered the overload and pushed directly into his transfluid tank, holding the gate wide. A constant dribble of transfluid ran through his spike and into Bob’s valve. Tendrils held Drift tightly enough that he daren’t move, and the valve rippled in waves strong enough to milk his spike.

It felt amazing. Drift decided he’d just lay himself over Bob’s back (avoiding the pointy bits) and let the feelings flow through him.

It was some time before he realised that he wasn’t alone with Bob any more. And that was only because Sunstreaker spoke to him.

“Primus, you’re a dirty mech, aren’t you? Is there anything you won’t fuck? Syk suppliers, Megatron, Insecticons… _Organics_?” He looked utterly disgusted.

It took a bit for Drift to process the words through the fog of pleasure and pheromones. “What?” he asked intelligently.

“Yeah, I heard about that. You’re a whore; always have been, always will be.” He stalked closer, leaning down to grab Drift’s chin and force him to look up. “Megatron’s whore, the mech who practically wiped out my unit. Lost some really good mechs that day. Still haven’t forgiven you for that, _Deadlock_.” He let go, roughly jerking Drift’s head to the side.

He watched as Drift disengaged from Bob, looking him over. “Still, you’re pretty enough. Bob’s taken a liking to you, obviously. Ratchet likes you. The bitlets like you. You’d be welcomed into this family, I think. Well, by everyone except me.” A slow smile spread over his handsome features. “Although I can think of a way you could earn your place there, too.” He suggestively stroked the panel over his spike.

“Sunstreaker, I know what I did to you, to make you hate me so much, but I’m not the same person as I was then. I’m trying – I’ve _been_ trying to atone for everything I did as Deadlock, but that’s not me anymore.” Drift rose to his feet a bit shakily, feeling drained.

“Right.”

“Look, I’ll just… I’ll just leave. I’ll leave you and your family alone, if that’s what you want. I’ll go.” He moved to the door.

“Yeah, get out of here, coward. Whore. Murderer,” Sunstreaker sneered.

The door shut behind Drift. He almost leaned against it, but instead marched down to one of the training rooms, anger beginning to boil in his lines. Anger at himself and anger at Sunstreaker. He needed to calm down before he ran into someone else and took it out on them.

\oOOo/

Bob chittered nervously. His heat was finally satisfied and he could think of other things now. His primary mate was being very aggressive toward his new mate. Perhaps mating with the pretty white mech hadn’t been such a good idea? But his mates had left the mech in their quarters, and he’d been willing. His mates almost never let mechs into their rooms. It just Wasn’t Done. So the white mech _had_ to have been left there for Bob to mate with… right?

He felt the mech pull away from him and he turned to watch his mates, antennae back. His initial assessment of ‘very aggressive’ was a bit on the light side. Aggression ran through every line of his primary mate’s frame. It reverberated in his field and radiated beyond. But there was a predatory satisfaction there, too. It was like Sunstreaker was enjoying Drift’s reactions. He certainly smelled excited. There was lust there, too.

His mate wanted the white mech. He had to. There was no other explanation for the mixed scents and signals. He wanted him, but he wanted him submissive.

Not long after the white mech left, his mate did, too, with a, “Stay here, Bob.”

Bob huffed and scuttled back to his nest in the berthroom. Mating was serious business and he was tired.

\oOOo/

Drift was restarting one of the kata Wing had taught him for the fifth time when the door to the training room opened and Sunstreaker stepped in.

“Not done with me yet, huh?”

“Not by a long shot. Wanna fight? I could use a good one.” Golden knuckles cracked against black palm.

“Hand to hand?”

“Of course. No weapons. We’ll do this the way we did in the Pits; me against you, winner frags loser.”

“I’m not your whore.”

“Didn’t say you were. Said you were others’ whore. Could be mine if you wanted, though. You’d be well taken care of.”

“Is this normally how you talk to your third in command?”

“No.” He chuffed a short, sharp sigh. “Look, I’ll be blunt. I want you, but I hate you for what you did all that time ago. I said those things to get a rise out of you. To see if you were still like that. You didn’t take the bait. So I guess I gotta give you some credit there. I’m not going to apologise, but I’ll let you burn off some of that anger you’re radiating.”

“Fine. But I’m not fragging you.”

“Won’t have to. I’ll be fragging you.”

And it was on.

Sunstreaker was fast and agile, more so than he looked. Drift just barely avoided several blows that would have knocked him across the room. The golden mech also had reach on him, and Drift knew that if Sunstreaker got hold of him, that would be the end of things.

But Drift was no slouch himself. He moved smooth as water, adjusting his sword techniques as well as he could to hand to hand, using the moves Wing had taught him in Crystal City. He wasn’t bad, but Sunstreaker was simply better.

Drift wound up flat on his back with Sunstreaker pinning his legs and arms down, both of them panting hard.

“Told you I’d be fragging you. Open up.” Golden fingers traced down Drift’s frame to his interface panel. “C’mon, you’re just as hot as I am. I wanna feel you.”

He was right. He’d been still turned on from fragging Bob, and now it was almost an ache in his valve. He tried to resist the touches to his panel, but he just couldn’t after only a few. It retracted, baring his array. His spike remained recessed, but his valve… oh his valve was dripping and the callipers clenched on themselves, just waiting for a spike.

Sunstreaker didn’t keep him waiting long. He buried himself deep in one thrust, drawing a strangled moan from Drift’s vocaliser. “Frag, yes. That's what I'm talking about. Got a nice little valve here, Drift. Gonna take my time with you.”

Drift snorted. “Yeah, you're gonna have to, since all your energy went to fragging the daylights out of Bob earlier.”

“Still beat you, didn't I? I'm better than you all think I am.” He thrust hard into Drift, hilting himself and making them both gasp.

The slow drag of Sunstreaker’s spike set the sensors within his valve to burning. Drift was determined not to give Sunstreaker the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pleasure, but it was taking all of his concentration to stop himself.

The golden mech brought his hand into play, surprisingly skilled at feeling out the spots where Drift liked to be touched. His mouth attacked a finial and Drift squeaked, his field flaring wildly for a moment. Sunstreaker grinned and continued his assault, denying the white mech time to compose himself back into dispassionate silence.

“Come on, you can do better than that. I want to hear you scream my name when you come,” Sunstreaker murmured beside Drift’s audial. “I want you loud. Can you do that for me?”

Drift moaned.

“Better, but you can do so much more.” Sunstreaker snapped his hips forward and added a little twist, setting off new sensors and Drift yelped, his own hips pushing up. Callipers rolled down Sunstreaker's spike and back up, spinning around the shaft slowly as Drift worked him. “Ooh, that's a nice mod,” he purred. “Feels as good as Bob's valve.”

Drift’s valve clenched as he cried out. That ache in his valve had graduated to a steadily growing burn, consuming him with his lust. He babbled, unaware of what exactly he was saying, punctuating the flow of words with increasingly loud grunts, groans, moans, and yelps.

All the while, Sunstreaker just grinned and kept up his rhythm. “Come on, come on, keep talking. Let me know how good you feel. How good I'm making you feel. You like this, don't you; my spike in your valve, these things I'm making you feel. I like it. Like feeling you around me, like hearing your pleasure. Oh yes. I could get used to this.”

He reached down between them and rubbed at Drift's nub. The swordsmech’s vocalisations got shorter and sharper, growing louder and louder with each circle, until Sunstreaker pressed and held down on the nub. Drift’s world shattered around him into little pinpricks of light and he screamed.

\oOOo/

“No, Ratchet, for the fifth time, you can't get up yet. No, Sunstreaker’s still not answering his comm. Yes, Bob seems to be fine. Anything else?” Ambulon was about to strangle his boss. It was unprofessional, but the fantasy made him feel a little better after dealing with the incessant needling.

“Drift’s still not answering?” The CMO was tired and fighting it, and it made him cranky, just like the sparklings arranged around and on him.

“No.”

“Call Rung, please? Ask if he can watch the bits.”

“Already done. He said he’d be here in a little bit.”

“Well, how long is a ‘little bit’?”

“He’ll be here when he gets here, and not a minute sooner, no matter how much you ask. Now calm down, you're going to upset your sparklings.”

Ratchet harrumphed and laid back on the berth, cradling Echo and Gage. Both were fast asleep, Gage making little murmuring noises. Dash was curled up at the end of the berth between Ratchet’s feet, gnawing on a scrap piece of pipe. Shadow and Gadget played with empty energon cubes and parts containers on the floor beside the berth, building towers and knocking them down.

Ratchet was dozing when Rung walked in. Dash’s antennae perked and he launched himself off the berth and skittered over to the psychologist, chirring happily. Rung paused long enough to hoist the bitlet onto his shoulders, where Dash surveyed the room from his new vantage point. Shadow perked up and shouted when he saw who had come in and Gadget smiled and waved.

“How are you feeling, Ratchet?” Rung asked.

“Fragging exhausted. I don’t know what happened to Sunstreaker or Drift, and I’ve had to try to keep those three corralled. Aid and Ambulon have helped, but they have other duties. Could you please watch them for a few hours?” The medic’s voice was gravelly from sleep, and he sounded almost desperate.

“Of course! My appointments are finished for the day. I would be happy to spend some time with the sparklings.” He patted Gadget’s helm as the little one hugged his leg. “Shall I take Gage as well?” he asked, noting that the sparkling was deep in recharge.

“Nah. He’s out for the night. And if he wakes up, I can deal with him.”

Rung’s attention moved to the blanket-wrapped bundle on Ratchet’s chest next to Gage. “Your newspark is adorable,” he commented, smiling at the sleeping face half-squished on the glass. A little bit of drool leaked from the sparkling’s mouth, which occasionally moved in a sucking motion.

“He is.” There was a smile in Ratchet’s voice that was faintly duplicated on his face. “He’s going to be a terror, though. He can already duplicate most sounds and has a sense of humour. We named him Echo. For the sounds he makes and because he’s pretty much an echo of Sunny’s twin.”

“It’s a good name, and fitting, it sounds like. I look forward to properly meeting him.”

“Thanks, Rung. For taking care of the bitlets for me.”

“It’s my pleasure. Come along, dearsparks, and we’ll find something for you to eat and then play.”


End file.
